Dare Not Speak Its Name
by Yamino Tenshi 202
Summary: Part 5 of "Lark and Nightingale": Jack and Pitch have been keeping their relationship a secret, but neither of them could have known that their secret could have grown into something so passionate, so uncontrollable, that it could cause one of the greatest Pains to emerge from within? Or, perhaps, from the Guardians?
1. The Hearts of Boy and Girl

Chapter Summary:

_Dancing through memory gems,_  
_I saw my mother's flower-stems_  
_I saw my lover through drunken mist_  
_Yet it was not them I kissed_  
_For me it's my tears 'twill condemn_

_- "Flower Stems"_

* * *

_Who, being loved, is poor? _  
_- Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Jack smiled, feeling the wind against his cheeks. It gave him little kisses, blowing back some of his snow at him and delivering the cold flakes to his face. He felt warm and delighted, having left Pitch's lair not so long ago. The air currents were a welcome touch, and they reminded him of how Pitch touched him. Like he was a precious gem.

As he travelled to the Workshop, happy that North had invited him for a celebration, Jack wondered if he would be able to take something back for Pitch. Some biscuits, eggnog, even something that they could play with - Jack found that he still had a fondness for tops and little trinkets that could be used in games. Even if Pitch chided him playfully for his youthful habits, Jack enjoyed the little toys, reminiscent of his past.

The Workshop was lively with music and the yetis were hurrying to and fro to hang up last minute decorations. Garlands and lights held the room bright with a wonderful glow of joy and accomplishment. He could hear North going on to whoever was present - Sandy, Jack discovered a bit later - about how they had reached their quota, though many of the toys that had been made earlier that year had to be disposed of because of what had occurred earlier in the year.

As per tradition and to honour the children in their death, the Guardian of Wonder would burn the toys of the children and use them in the base elements that helped to create the new toys. As they would wither from the physical world and live the memory, their toys would mirror that action by living in the new. Jack smiled at the thought.

"Jack!" The frost spirit turned to the voice and was almost toppled over by a body covered in vibrant feathers. Toothiana held onto him tightly, as though he were to disappear.

"Tooth! Hi!" He returned her embrace and when the two pulled back, he noticed how bright her smile was.

"It feels like I haven't seen you in so long because of all the work I do, Jack," she said, pulling away from him. "You should come to my place. I can always make time." He chuckled at that.

"No, it's fine. I wouldn't want to bother you when you're busy." Tooth frowned at him.

"Your coming over is never a bother, Jack. It could never be."

Jack paused at that, but the Sister of Flight gave him a smile and turned as her name was called by North. "Hello, Toothy!"

"North!" The female Guardian turned and embraced her friend, a shorter hug compared to the one she gave Jack.

Sandy came over to Jack and smiled at the young Guardian, having symbols float above his head in the dream sand in a simpler version of his usual charades.

_How have you been?_

"I've been good. The snow keeps me busy and more kids are able to see me." Not long ago, Jack would have thought this to be impossible, to be seen. Jamie and his friends, under the fear of danger, were having fun and were just as cautious as they were before Pitch's defeat. They held prudence to the unknown and were wary, but it did not stop them from growing and being curious. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

_You've been seeing Pitch?_

"Yeah, I still check up on him. Why?"

Sandy just gave a smile and a thumbs-up. Of the four Guardians, Sandy seemed to trust his judgement the most.

Bunnymund came soon after, keeping a distance from Jack. The Pooka had not approached him since he had attacked Jack, something that Jack kind of wished that would be forgotten soon. He knew that he had pressed a knife into an old wound, but he could not let Bunny keep speaking those horrible things about Pitch.

It was the one thing he could do for the Bogeyman...

* * *

"Jack, come! Drink eggnog and celebrate closer to us!" North walked over with a full flask, handing it to Jack who already had one in hand. Jack took the new flask anyway, holding it while finishing the old. An elf came up, a grin almost splitting its face. The Year's End celebration was the one time of year that it could get away with eating all of the cookies it wanted and not be scolded. Jack wondered if the Yetis really did all the work, since the elves were the ones bringing out the cookie plates.

The elf held out its hands and Jack bent down to give it his empty flask. The elf nodded, taking the metal container and hurrying to the kitchens.

"Coming, North," he responded to the older Guardian, walking beside him to stand close to a slightly raised section of floor. Jack quickly downed his eggnog, enjoying the warmth it left inside of him. Toothiana and Sandy were dancing, separate but still in sync with the folk music filling the air. Its instruments and voices, from a radio of all things, told of the East, dragons, spirits, and the Stars.

It was an exotic thing to witness, seeing Tooth's feathers shift and appear to change colour in the light. Jack was often fascinated by her colours, having grown up in a place where the brown of furs and skins were common. His mother had known the art of dyeing fabrics, so she had always dressed his sister in such finery...

Remembering such a thing, Jack grabbed another flask of eggnog and soon joined in the dancing, his mind giddy and his hands around Tooth in a show of platonic affection.

* * *

_"Jack! Look at the new sash Mother has coloured for me!" Jack looked to see the little girl, his precious sister, with a nice red sash about her waist._

_"You are like a little princess, you are so beautiful!" He caught her in his arms, aching from being in the fields, tending his flock that Father had left behind for him to manage. The child giggled in approval, knowing that her brother would always say such things. That sound, that reminded him of church bells, eased the aching in his arms away._

_"Mother says that when she finds woad, she'll make us both something."_

_"What does woad do?" Jack smiled. He knew what it did, but he loved to test the child all the same._

_"It makes the colour blue! Your favourite colour, Jack!"_

_He saw his mother plant the woad, water the sapling well, and she had enough of it in two years... the year he would fall into the pond._

_"Mother, you could sell the dyed fabric and threads, and we could have exchanged goods, maybe even sugar for canned fruits when the spring comes!" Jack saw his mother stand and leave her place from the foul-smelling mordant, the liquid that would help the thread colours stay fast. She came over to him and pressed herself to him, her arms encircling him and holding him close._

_"Jackson, can't a mother dote on her children? A mother wants to give her very best for her children, so that they are happy and know the value of what is being given to them." She pulled back and placed a kiss on his brow. "You know the value of it, materially, but know that I know your favourite hue and I want you to have a bit of it. We need not be rich in species or goods to be joyous. Perhaps I can make a design on your cape. Flowers at the edges..."_

_He could see the rolling clouds of thought that his mother held over her head._

_"... Maybe myrtles... for Father." His mother drew her eyes back up to his._

_"Blue myrtles?" He nodded and he felt his heart swell as the smile began to grow on her face. "Yes, myrtles! Would you like them to have a bit of violet in them?"_

_He nodded. The myrtles were always a lovely violet that his mother adored. When his ancestors came across the ocean, they had to travel to the southern edge of Europe, where they had bought a myrtle sapling. It survived the trip, a symbol of the strength his family had held throughout the journey. To think his parents had been only babes coming across..._

_His mother put a pole into the mordant. He covered his mouth, not wanting the stench to fill up his lungs but knowing that he should be grateful for it. His mother was teaching him these methods, and if his wife-to-be did not know, he could show her. His sister still covered her nose and mouth, but she was growing more tolerant. His mother pulled out threads of green from, threads that would forever hold their brilliance._

_"Yes," she uttered. "Myrtles with blue and green... Green from sunflowers. The very best for my children."_

* * *

"Jack?" The frost spirit paid no mind... He felt as though he was fainting. The feeling was interesting, to say the least. Things were getting dark, and all he focused on was the blue and green coming towards him.

"... Tooth?" His voice was slurring and it was filled with a sense of hiraeth...

Where was his mother now?

Sandy was coming forward, an expression of worry on his face. North was coming forward to lift him up, but Tooth was protesting. Bunnymund quieted the radio, letting Jack come to rest more easily.

Tooth was lowering Jack to the floor carefully, and for a moment, Jack saw an unfeathered woman in her place. Her eyes were still a brilliant purple, but her arms had bangles and bracelets. She was beautiful.

"Too much eggnog at once!" North said loudly, hurting Jack's ears. "He just needs rest."

"I'll get him to a room, North." Tooth cradled Jack against her, her arms strong beneath him.

Jack couldn't get over how beautiful she looked.

* * *

Jack felt warmth against him and he thought of Pitch. He kept his eyes closed, not really wanting to wake up.

"Jack," Pitch whispered to him, a finger tracing down the side of his face. His voice seemed distorted, probably from the eggnog. "You've been asleep for a while."

"Sorry... Tired, I guess..." Jack welcomed the slow movements and was contentedly surprised with Pitch's head coming to rest on his chest. Pitch never did that often, but when he did, it was when Jack was nostalgic or had had a nightmare.

"What happened?"

"I saw my sister," he mumbled, feeling Pitch's fingers tangle themselves in his hair, combing themselves through the white, spiked strands. "She wore a nice red sash and she was so happy to show me and..." He brought a hand up to his face, just to cover his eyes. He wasn't crying. He was just getting overly warm and his frost was acting up. Pitch's gentle fingers weren't wiping the corners of his eyes.

"You're crying," Pitch noted aloud. A kiss was pressed against his cheek and Jack shivered at the show of affection.

"Y-Yeah, I just miss her, and Mother." A kiss was pressed at the corner of his mouth and Jack turned to capture those familiar lips in his. He wanted to drown in Pitch, just focus on the here and now. He'd deal with his memories on his own, somewhere nice and cold where he wasn't being suffocated by shadows.

Pitch pressed harder against his lips and Jack felt something was off...

He opened his eyes as the kiss was broken. Purple eyes gazed into his.

"T-Tooth?" The woman blinked at the sound of her name, as though she didn't expect Jack to sound so shocked. She must have seen how upset he was now that he truly recognized her, because she looked away.

"Jack, I... I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse for what I just did. I'm sorry." She got off of the bed from where she was above Jack and rushed over to the door. Jack ignored that his tears were still coming down his face. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, Jack thought, as he sat up, holding his head with a groan of pain escaping his lips.

"Tooth! Ugh... It's okay. I don't know why I passed out."

He watched Tooth turn around, her larger feathers flowing out her like a dress with a bustle. She was beautiful, but not what he wanted.

"Do you already have feelings for someone, Jack?"

"Yes." The answer came out immediately and in a soft voice. He was nervous. What else was he supposed to say?

He would give her the truth.

"Okay." Tooth smiled at him. "They're very lucky to have you liking them." She left him, closing the door and making Jack feel so lonely.

Jack looked down at the floor, his head pounding and his eyes still watering. He had hurt her. Jack floated up to one of the windows and pushed it open. He called the wind and let it take him to Pitch's lair.

To home.

* * *

Devany: Hi, guys. I just wanted to thank those who are reading the series "Lark and Nightingale" and I would just like to ask for reviews. I really would appreciate any feedback and criticism (positive and negative). It would really help me grow as a writer and it could help with the 7th part of the series onward.

Thank you again!


	2. Mutual Flame

Chapter Summary:

_Shall we wipe away our tears?_  
_Shall we hide from all our fears?_  
_You're the one who sees me cry_  
_In the very middle of the night_  
_Love, you are the only one who hears_

_Let us hide away, hide away_  
_Let's hide from our yesterday_  
_Foreign kisses are gone_  
_Replaced by those from your lips, drawn_  
_Love is mutual, that 'twill stay_

_- "Middle of the Night"_

* * *

_Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead._  
_-Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Pitch looked around his lair, watching the Night Mares come and go as he commanded. Their sand glittered in the small amount of light that came in from the sky. They were growing stronger as Caution began to take root in the world. The gentle fears were keeping children safe and the Guardians were grateful for it. He smiled at the thought.

To think that Jack Frost started it all.

He heard the wind and turned to see a flurry of blue and white speed over to him. Jack buried himself against Pitch's form, holding onto the taller man and tightening his grip as though he would disappear. Pitch could hear his name spill from Jack's lips and a fear was radiating from him. It was intense, almost like-

"Jack, what's happened?" Blue eyes gazed up at him and I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean it I didn't know I thought- "Your fears are showing."

Jack's eyes widened, as though surprised that Pitch could read his fears so simply. That wasn't the case, no. Jack was frightened of Pitch finding something out. The frost spirit dropped his head, resigned to the idea that Pitch could see everything that he was afraid of, that was going through his mind.

"I... The party at North's, there was eggnog and stuff. We were dancing and I got caught up in old memories."

"Memories, Jack? Like your nightmare?" Pitch asked, stroking his lover's hair. He wanted no event to occur that was akin to the night that Jack had that horrible dream, where he was told that he shouldn't have been born again.

"My mother and sister," Jack responded, shaking his head. "A-And I got dizzy and fainted, I guess. When I woke up, I thought I was with you."

Pitch frowned a bit at that.

"I've been here the whole time, Jack." Jack nodded and bit the inside of his lower lip.

"It wasn't you, and I thought I was kissing you." The confession came out as a whisper, and it hurt. The pain was evident in Jack's voice and the terror that was rising inside of the small spirit...

How could a soul so vibrant and young produce such a terror that it made thunder and lightning seem like cooling baths for relaxing rather than dangers of the natural world? It was burning in his lungs and making it so very hard to draw in a simple breath; his chest was aching as though a suit of lead were crushing it. It was a terror almost bottomless with the bottom a pool of an unfinishing, corrosive substance. Jack was still afraid of drowning... And the only other person that knew of his fear, of his past, was-

"The faerie?"

Jack looked up at Pitch and his eyes were not only terror-filled. Pitch felt a deep pain in his heart. Tears were escaping his eyes, rivulets coursing their way down his cheeks. His cheeks were flushed and looking somewhat more plump than before from the force of his crying.

Jack's eyes looked for forgiveness, for love, for anything that said that Pitch still loved him.

"I didn't mean to... Tooth thought that-" The frost spirit was hushed with a finger to his lips. Jack watched as Pitch's eyes changed from compassionate to anger-filled.

"You made a mistake, one you regret, though I don't believe that young Queen feels so if she took a kiss from you while intoxicated."

"Pitch, don't hurt her," he pleaded softly. Tooth was his friend, and even if she had more passionate feelings for him, she had wished him well in his relationship. She hadn't been cruel or forceful. Jack didn't want to see her hurt.

Pitch gazed down at him, anger seemingly melting away before being taken over by a carnal longing.

"I won't hurt her, Jack," were the words he whispered over the shell of Jack's ear, Pitch enjoying the shivers that his warm breath elicited. He settled his hands on Jack's hips, pulling him close, and drew circles through the sweater's fabric and the deerhide trousers, watching Jack relax more against him. "Just let me keep you here with me, for as long as I am able."

As Jack smiled up at him, Pitch remembered his daughter's face when she planted flowers for the first time. She'd been so happy, covered in damp earth and dust, and it was all that he needed.

Jack's smile filled him with a different love, one he thought he would never feel so strongly after... It still left his heart aching.

Jack's smile was the last coherently formed memory before Pitch came forward, devouring his lips.

* * *

Pitch would always be envious of the Winter. It would call to Jack, and the frost spirit would try to ignore the call for as long as he was able. Pitch would bid him to leave, and Jack would give a noise of jubilation, kiss Pitch sweetly, and fly on the Wind. The Wind would take Jack away then, to spread his Winter-born magic, all for Winter's sake. Every year this would occur, and Pitch would brood about his lair, envying that Winter would caress Jack's cheeks, brush through his hair, take all of him and use him to its delight; worse - Jack would enjoy it all, because it was fun to him.

When Pitch would keep Jack close, like now, he would hold the frost spirit close, loving how the younger male would reach up to thread his fingers in his dark hair. The fingers would feel cold and so refreshing against the heated skin of his scalp. He would lift Jack up, the other's lithe frame against his, as they moved to the bed. Clothes would be removed and hands would be grasping, clawing, groping for a good hold, not wanting to be separate for much longer if they were able to help it. Gone would be thoughts, save for those about each other.

Jack would shiver, his body growing warmer and shaking to keep out the heat. Frost would decorate the sheets a bit and Pitch would trace over the beautiful patterns that were as fragile as flower petals. Pale hands would clasp his upper arms and wine-coloured lips would form a pout. Pitch would chuckle and kiss it away, just a slight graze of his lips which Jack would try to deepen. Pitch would lift his head and give a kiss to Jack's neck, smiling at the moan that he'd receive.

The kisses and caresses would grow in number and travel lower. Love bites were given, bruising the snow-white skin and marking Jack. Jack would lean up at times and try to mark Pitch, succeeding more in frequency when Pitch was at his chest than when the Bogeyman was kissing his inner thighs, Jack's lips only able to reach Pitch's hand that was clasped tightly in his, fingers intertwined. Pitch would move to the side, where he would be able to bend down and help Jack in pressing his legs together. As Jack would bend his knees, feet resting on the bed, Pitch would bend down. As Pitch's tongue began to move against the head of his erection, Jack would moan loudly and try to focus on the hot wetness surrounding his cock, not the finger so deftly lubricated that began to enter him. He'd try to ask Pitch where the lubricant was, but Pitch would stay silent at that.

There would be whispers in the air when Jack would have his legs tight together, Pitch's finger spreading him patiently. Whispers of praise ("You're doing very well," and "you taste so good") were occasional and appreciated, Jack relaxing more quickly now. Another finger would be added, small hushes and gasps echoing off of the walls of the cave. Then another and Jack would be trying to keep himself from cumming from stimulation to his cock and entrance both.

He'd be on the edge when Pitch would move again, lubricate himself with the substance that kept disappearing, and position himself. Jack would reach up to Pitch and hold him as Pitch would push inside of him and there would be a pause, a slow build, a rush, a desperate plea...

It would be granted, for both of them.

Yes, this is how it would be.

* * *

Jack laid curled against PItch, relaxing on the bed. His hood was pulled up and his eyes were starting to slide closed.

"Sleep, Jack," Pitch whispered. "I'll keep the Nightmares away." Jack laughed in response.

"I love hearing you say that. It shows how much you love me."

Pitch paused and then smiled.

"You confessing that shows how much you love me, so we're even," he teased lightly. He didn't protest when Jack gave him another kiss and then laid on the bed, his eyes closed and breathing even.

* * *

Devany: Hi, guys. I just wanted to thank those who are reading the series "Lark and Nightingale" and I would just like to ask for reviews. I really would appreciate any feedback and criticism (positive and negative). It would really help me grow as a writer and it could help with the 7th part of the series onward.

Thank you again!


	3. His Name is Shame

Chapter Summary:

_Lonely boy in the sky_  
_Hidden in the white-washed sky_  
_Stay away from its claws_  
_You've broken many laws_  
_Now you've no time to cry_

_- "No Time"_

* * *

_Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal. _  
_- Arthur Schopenhauer_

* * *

Bunnymund caught the scent of Jack - the smell that could only be described as 'cold' - on the Wind. It was coming from the North and he wondered why Jack was so far to the South. He asked the Trees to relay his message to the Wind. When they responded back to him, the Wind and Winter itself did not wish to reply to him.

He was shocked at this. Why would the Seasons not respond? It was not typical, and he recalled only one other fime in which the Winter season would not respond.

* * *

The blizzard was shrieking, a banshee in its own right, and all over an immature sprite that loved to cause trouble. Bunnymund was watching as all his treats, his googies, were frosted over, slowly impeded in movement to find another place so the children would be able to find them, and were then buried. Children managed to grab a few and only a few children left to the haven of their homes without treats, their cheeks pink from the cold and turning red as they cried to their parents that they had not retrieved anything from the Easter Bunny. Their small traces of Doubt made his chest hurt, his shivering inhalations painful and growing worse.

He left the park, left behind his freezing and frozen sweeties behind. He sniffed at the Wind, and noticed that it had the scent of...

Exasperation.

He ran along the bushes, ignoring that everything was becoming white around him and focusing on the scent, letting it lead him, the scent of Cold.

Bunnymund found himself under a tree. The tree, welcoming the Spring and adorning itself with new leaf buds, had been frosted over, some of the new bark splitting and silken frost growing from it, as though it had earned the right to be there, surviving over the other. He set down some of his remaining eggs, the little googies shaking from the cold, and brought up his arm to break through the ice; the sharp crack that emerged was so satisfying, he felt a bit of a beserker emerge in his heart.

Standing upright again, he looked around what was the edge of Burgess forest. There was a pond, trees around, trees separated and marked to be cut down as construction would soon begin...

He looked up, and there was a boy in deerhide trousers, a white - or what would be white, if the dirt would be washed away - shirt, and a hooded cape of the same buckhide. He had pale, almost translucent skin and hair that was similar to the frost Bunny had just destroyed. The sprite looked young, like a boy on the cusp of adulthood. He was looking down towards Burgess, an unreadable expression on his face. He was like a statue of marble, unresponsive, uncaring to the snowstorm that he was causing. He seemed familiar.

"Who are you?" The Pooka's voice was surprisingly loud, the Wind quieting down as if to let the young spirit hear him. The white-haired spirit jolted, as though not expecting anyone to address him. He looked down at the Pooka, blue eyes running over the other's form and taking in his stance.

"... You can see me?"

The question came like the whisper on the Wind; however, it seemed loud - louder than the Dust Bowl Winds, the Earthquake from the West, or the Flames from Chicago. The snow had stopped cascading from the sky for a while, only a pleasant dusting still falling now. It was the soft expression of a doe looking up at a predator that had drawn attention to itself, that graced the spirit's pale face. He stood shyly, like a newborn Kitten that Bunnymund had taken care of when his name was just Aster and he was learning how to be a healer. He was almost shaking with energy, the Kitten-like spirit was, anxious, excited, frightened... and filled with Hope. It was overwhelming.

"What is your name?" he asked again, trying to focus the spirit's attention on the matter at hand. Perhaps he could convince him to stop the storm, if he was indeed the cause.

"Jack Frost." Bunnymund paused at that. Older winter spirits had been conversing about the young frost spirit in the West, the one who Winter spoilt and let play his games in every Natural part of the world that it could touch. The Wind his playmate, he had no restrictions when it came to spreading his frost and ice in other frost spirits territories. Skadi, the Goddess, was especially intrigued, giving the boy trinkets and tchotchke whenever he would stay long enough in one spot, praising his steadfastness.

This was also the spirit that had visited him just the week prior.

"You came to me last week." Jack's gaze hardened.

"I did. Am I still not worth your time?"

Bunnymund felt his core, his centre, burst in anger. This spirit had been bothering him the week prior, when he was trying to finish his eggs for the next week's holiday. Bothering his sentinels and almost freezing the River of Dyes with his touch - the boy had been wanting to touch the dye, with a longing look in his eyes, filled with nostalgia - was enough for Bunnymund to drive the boy out.

"Is that why you've done this? Because I had the right to kick you from my Warren?"

"I wasn't doing anything wrong, rabbit!" Jack leapt down from the tree and landing gracefully on his feet, his stance steady. His eyes were like ice – clear and deceivingly calm. His body spoke otherwise; Bunnymund was reminded of trapped animals, ones he had no pity for.

"You've hurt the children. Did you think of that?"

Jack stood perfectly still at that. After a moment, he brought up his staff and shot something towards the Pooka. Bunnymund jumped away, bringing out his boomerangs from their holsters. Turning to where he had once stood, he saw frost growing in the form of vines, reaching for the sky.

"I hurt the children?" Jack looked at him incredulously. "They get their chocolate and marshmallows anyway, rabbit. Their parents will make sure of that. Maybe you're a kangaroo..."

The Pooka felt his breathing begin to pick up again, his exhalations visible in the air. He flung a boomerang at the boy, who only managed to get out of reach by a hair's breadth. Jack scowled at him and raised his staff again-

"Mom! Look! An egg!"

Bunny ducked behind a bush after feeling his weapon return to his hand, the shrub furnished with its annual leaves, at the sound of the child. He remembered that he had set down his remaining eggs, the sweets growing still and waiting for the child to find them. He didn't see Jack failing to move out of the way.

"Peter! Just because the snow stopped for a while-"

"But Mom, look at the eggs!" Bunnymund peered through the leaves and saw Jack clutching at his chest, the young spirit gasping in agony - it was the only thing that Bunnymund could liken it to - as the child and his mother both walked through him.

Peter was holding the chocolate eggs, a smile of pure joy plastering itself to his face, and Bunnymund basked in the belief that the boy exuded. This boy was hopeful, and it was good that he was.

He ignored the feeling of hopelessness coming from Jack Frost.

As Peter and his mother walked away, snow crunching beneath their feet, Jack moved out of their path. Bunnymund came from behind the bush.

"Well then, Frost. What did you say about-"

The wave of ice hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him down and back, the Pooka landing in the snow. He raised his boomerangs again, glad he did as Jack came down from the air that willingly obeyed him, aiming to strike Bunny with his staff only to be stopped by the Pooka's weapons. He let himself fall into a warrior's state of mind, focusing on the enemy in front of him. He himself had no quarrel with Jack, but he was threatening their belief, their hope and innocence. This could not pass. He would not let it!

Jack had his teeth clenched, anger in his eyes. A flash of something else passed over his blue irises before Bunnymund pushed him off, throwing him against a tree and enjoying - no, not enjoying - the sound of Jack's pained groan passing his lips as he fell to the ground, his face pressed into the snow.

"You're the worst Guardian I've met, rabbit..." Jack rasped out, his breath wheezing out. "Maybe I was too nice... I should have made it cold enough for your 'googies' to crack."

Bunnymund strode forward, grabbing the young spirit's cape, despite his protests. He placed a foot on Jack's back, preventing the spirit from standing.

"You threaten something of mine, mate?" He tore it off of Jack, surprised at the condition of this cape. It was so worn that it could not even be considered a small portion of a bed-sheet. It was thin and did not hold out cold, could not do so. The only nice thing about it was...

"Nice embroidery," he commented. The myrtles looked quite nice, even with their strange blue tint and their connection to green ivy patterns. They did not fit the aged appearance of the hooded cape. "But Easter is a time for new beginnings... You are in need of a new cape, mate."

He paid no mind to Jack's cries as he sunk his claws into the fabric, making holes in it and using them as a guide to tear at the old skin. The myrtles unraveled and the ivy shriveled away. The skin's pieces were dropped onto the snow, no longer alive with colour as it had been prior.

Bunnymund left the frost spirit alone, walking away slowly before pausing to speak.

"There's a reason that frost spirits are hardly seen. Ones like you, who sabotage others' purposes, aren't meant to be seen. It's like you don't even exist."

If Bunnymund had just looked back, instead of running away, like he had his home, his true name, he'd see Jack Frost rising to his knees and reaching for the fabric that had been his cape. He'd have seen the young one's tears fall silently, the Wind picking up again to create the noise that its master wouldn't dare let pass from his throat.

* * *

He still did not know why Jack was civil with him, especially after that day. For the most part, after that, Jack would tease, sneak into the Warren, and freeze a few eggs; it would never escalate.

Even now, however, there was a barrier that they would not cross. It separated them from true camaraderie.

That is what crossed Bunnymund's mind as he followed the scent of Jack's frost through his tunnels. Finding the opening, he found himself in-

"Antarctica?" Bunny rubbed his upper arms, trying to create some warmth and activate his inner warmth, murmuring a spell. He glanced up at the glaciers that surrounded him and moved forward, jumping to and from sturdy ledges when necessary. Jack's scent was captured throughout the ice, and Bunnymund only stopped to think about why when he noticed something black in the ice.

Nightmare Sand.

Had Pitch been following Jack? Was that why Jack was so antagonistic towards him? Surely he understood that the Bogeyman was cruel, would not be appreciative of Jack asking him for assistance nor how his creatures were helping children. Perhaps this was his way of luring Jack away from the Guardians again.

"... see it!" Bunnymund heard a voice, Jack's, laced in sorrowful desperation, and went towards it, moving quietly. He followed it to a cavern, shadows decorating it and covering most of his sight, though he could see that it was lighter the deeper he went in.

"Wait here." The Bogeyman's voice filled the cavern. Suddenly, the feeling of living shadows was gone. The cavern grew brighter and Bunny moved forward. No scent of Pitch.

Jack lay curled on the icy floor, his sweater off to the side. Bunny approached and smelled blood. Scratches decorated Jack's torso, circular bruises with faint traces of blood covering the pale skin. Blood was at the corner of Jack's mouth, his lips dark red and looking bruised.

"Jack..." he gasped out, bending down and grabbing the boy's sweater. He looked around for the boy's crook and spotted it, the object having been tossed carelessly to the floor. He grasped it in his hand and tapped his foot to the ground, opening a tunnel. Picking up Jack, he entered the tunnel, having it close behind him. They'd be in North's Workshop in no time at all, ready to battle the one who had hurt his friend and left him bloody on the ice.

He'd forgotten, in his moment of worry, that Pitch would find the flower that would grow at the closure of the tunnel, and that Pitch would find them.

He wouldn't let the Bogeyman lay his hands on the sprite in his arms.

* * *

Devany: Hi, guys. I just wanted to thank those who are reading the series "Lark and Nightingale" and I would just like to ask for reviews. I really would appreciate any feedback and criticism (positive and negative). It would really help me grow as a writer and it could help with the 7th part of the series onward.

Thank you again!


	4. The Love that Dare Not Speak Its Name

_Walk in the shadows_

_Fear no death, all alone_  
_Child, forget your memories_  
_Have no conflict, hunger, please_  
_Nor a conquest; I will atone_

_Leave your worries behind_  
_The wants of the world, you'll find,_  
_Only deliver more strife;_  
_Needless is this strange second life_  
_Child, I'm just trying to be kind_

_- "The Fourth Horseman"_

* * *

_The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. _  
_- Oscar Wilde_

* * *

The Bogeyman had been furious with all of existence when Jack came to him, eyes wide with fright. He had seen a pair of spirits in the forest. He described the palest horse that he had ever seen, the man atop it with a beguiling smile on his face. He had extended a hand to Jack, inviting him to ride with him. Jack had pulled away, his body stiff in apprehension. Terror was still radiating off of the frost sprite, tempering itself when Pitch held him close. The terror was still enough to infuriate him, awakening a bloodlust against those who had hurt his love.

* * *

The rider had stepped off his beast and run forward, slamming Jack against a tree trunk. He raised a hand - skeletal, save for the thin, translucent skin and visible, black veins on the appendage - to Jack's face and the other to his side. When he began to touch his face, Jack felt pain flare up at the contact points, making him cry out. The rider pulled away, his fingers having traces of blood on them. He seemed surprised.

"I'm just trying to help, Deva Pras-Ada."

"Who are you?" Jack was so quiet, like a midnight in the forest.

"I am Niry-A-Na." He pressed both hands now to Jack's torso and the pain came over Jack's torso. He raised his hands to Niry-A-Na's shoulders, trying to push him away. "Let me help, Pras-Ada."

"S-Stop... Hurts..."

"Kirana took you from my grasp," the spirit said, as though it was all the explanation that he needed to present. "That was not supposed to happen. I can give you this at least."

Jack heard a branch snap and he shivered in horror as another rider appeared. A woman, her skin like sunlight, stepped off of her white horse. A bow hung at her side, a quiver slung on her back.

"Jaya-Iti, come please," Niry-A-Na said. "Help me here."

"Foolish boy," Jaya-Iti chided, Jack trying to move away as she stepped towards him. "Shush. I shall conquer Kirana's devilry and you shall begin again."

She touched his face, holding his head between her warm, healthy hands, Niry-A-Na's hands pressing harder into his torso. Jack felt dizzy and nauseous, closing his eyes as he resisted the urge to vomit. His chest was burning, his body shaking to try and keep its cold inside.

"Let your Hima go, little one. Just let it go." His eyes opened at Jaya-Iti's words and he saw his sister, his mother, and even his father, tears in their warm, brown eyes. He wanted to go to them, wipe their tears...

Jack's vision went black and when he awoke, he found himself alone in the snow, the Wind wailing like her banshee sisters.

* * *

Pitch shushed Jack as he cried, holding him as he trembled violently.

"It's too warm here in the lair for you." He wrapped them both in shadows and made them both land in a cave in Antarctica. He laid Jack on the ice, surprised when Jack reaches up a hand to trace his lips, his tears making his eyes sparkle in the scarce light that the shadows let in.

"Not warm, just..." Jack leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. "Their hands were on my face and Niry-A-Na's hands... on my torso... make me forget it, please. I can't-" The terror cut him off again and Pitch recognized it.

The terror of Death.

"Ssh... Jack." He pressed a kiss to the frost spirit's lips, not taken aback when Jack just pressed harder, desperate. Pitch slipped the sweater off of him, grimacing at the site of bruises that made possessiveness run through him. He kissed and bit at each bruise, whispering. "I'll make their touch go away."

Their passion was short, Pitch only bringing Jack to orgasm, letting the pleasure take precedence over the fear in his heart. As Jack relaxed from the high, Pitch pressed his lips to his brow and then stood.

"Pitch?" Jack's voice was like a child's, curious, innocent.

"I'm going to find out more about these spirits. Niry-A-Na and Jaya-Iti, yes?"

"You didn't see it!" His terror was not as strong this time, his body finally winding down and drawing its master to rest.

"Wait here." Pitch saw Jack nod in submission, lay down more comfortably on the floor, and then go to sleep. He took the shadows with him.

* * *

Jack awoke to Toothiana pressing a cool cloth to his face, the rest of his body covered with a thick blanket, one that North had made himself. She said a warm "good morning" and told him about how Bunny found him in Antarctica, bleeding from bite marks and looking so, so much paler than normal.

"That... could just be from the bruises, Tooth..." Jack raised a hand to his face, wiping away some of the water from the cloth from his face. He inhaled deeply as it froze over his open bite marks, making them sting.

"Jack, why didn't you tell us that Pitch was hurting you?"

Fire ran through his body, his muscles ready to attack.

"Who said that it was Pitch?" Tooth glared at him.

"Bunny heard Pitch telling you to stay there, that you were unconscious and so, so hurt. Jack, I know you asked Pitch for help and you thought he was changing, but-" Jack pulled away from her and stood from the bed, pushing the thick cover aside. His back was hurting and his heart hurt, because they'd mistaken his bruises and small signs of malaise for pain and injury, rather than Pitch's possessive marks on him and being thrust a bit too hard against the wall by...

The monsters that would haunt his nightmares. The Pains, he remembered his mother calling them.

He looked for his sweater, spotting it on a shelf, and hastily moved to put it on.

"Jack!" Tooth cried out, wincing as he hissed in pain at the bruises. "Stay here! I don't know what you're planning but-"

Jack turned on her.

"Why don't you trust me?!" he cried. "I'm not doing anything wrong! I haven't ruined anything on purpose since that Easter years ago!" His voice was cracking and his chest felt as though a brick of lead was inside of it. His body was aching. He remembered getting a fever as a child, his fever that made them leave the village he had been born in and make their way to the forest, settling near a pond... His back had hurt then what his entire body was feeling now, and it was increased one-hundred fold.

He tilted over, making contact with the floor. Jack saw Tooth run over to him, North coming through the door with a sick bowl that he had thought the boy would need. Jack reached out to North. North set it on the floor in front of Jack, rubbing his back as Jack pushed himself up and vomited into it. Black filled the bowl, the acrid taste of acid tainting his mouth.

"Jack, what is going on?" North asked, more to the air, as the youngest Guardian emptied his stomach into the bowl.

* * *

Pitch came back to an empty cave, no trace of his lover in sight...

Pitch looked around, slightly smiling at the possibility that perhaps his Jack was feeling better and moving. However, when he saw the springtime flower sprouting from the cold ground, he knew that the Pooka had been here... and had taken his love away.

His chest filled with an agonizing fury. He had found very little on the riders, only that they "were the Pains of Humanity" as some of the forest fey had said, pride at their knowledge filling their bodies. He comes back to find Jack taken away. He couldn't lose anything else. He wouldn't lose anyone else.

* * *

When Jack had calmed down, his stomach finally settled, he noticed that the building was not as warm as before. He started to shiver, wanting the familiar coolness to return.

"Jack." He looked up to see Bunnymund and Sandy standing in the doorway. Sandy came forward, the golden man pressing a hand to Jack's forehead. A bit of sand made its way to his eyes and he felt himself relax a bit.

The Pooka stayed back for a while, shocked at Jack's illness. He looked like children from the colonies, children who had to watch their homes burn to keep the plague from spreading.

"B-Bunny?" The Sandman stepped away as Jack struggled to stand to address the Pooka, pale hands gripping tightly to North's arms. The star-coloured man spotted blood at the corners of Jack's eyes and feared that his friend may be moving further and further from them. "What… doing there?"

"Your scent never goes to the South. Winter is taken care of by other spirits in the South…"

"Pitch was… helping…" Jack closed his eyes at the sudden wave of nausea and Bunny's slight outburst.

"You're bleeding, Jack. You're vomiting blood, from what Tooth's told me." He quieted at Jack's tears, red with the blood that mixed in with them.

"I've had… before. I'll be… fine." Jack clutched his stomach, a whimper escaping him.

"Was it Pitch, Jack?" North's voice was so much like his father's. Why was everything so… cold?

"What was…" He closed his eyes and-

"Jack! Stay awake!"

"... scared..." Jack opened his eyes one last time and saw Jaya-Iti and Niry-A-Na standing behind Bunnymund. They followed him as the Pooka came closer, the Guardians making no indication of noticing them. Jack whimpered in pain, blood still coming down his face.

Niry-A-Na extended a hand to him.

Come, Pras-Ada... Come home.

Jack did not see the skeletal man any-more.

"Papa..." he uttered, barely a whisper, extending out a hand to Bunny's side and reaching out, for some kind of salvation.

* * *

Pitch emerged from a shadow on one of the production floors of the Workshop. He had gone through the Warren and its tunnels, had gone in the shadows of Punjam Hy-Loo... The last place to search was North's workshop. The Island of Sleepy Sands wouldn't be a place for the Guardians to take Jack - too warm.

Jack's room was cool, like how Pitch knew the boy liked it. It was nice and dark. The scent of blood made its way to Pitch's nose and he balked at its smell, hoping to anyone that could hear him - the healing spirits in the West or the East, even those of his home world! - that Jack hadn't been the one hurting.

The Moon was trying to shine through the clouds and windows, though very few moonbeams were actually making it through. Pitch looked up at the Man in the Moon and wondered how he could have let harm, such terrible harm, come to hiss unique creation. Jack had been the only one that he had had direct action in creating, the other Guardians having their abilities long before they were aware of the Månen tsar. As he gazed up, he saw a moonbeam come through and take the shape of a man, a small man with a kind and warm expression.

"Pitchiner," the glowing, mist-formed man said, his voice like the twinkling of bells.

"Man in the Moon."

"Please," the moon man said. "Call me Kiran. Others call me by other titles, but you may call me thus." He made his way to Jack's bed and his glowing form showed how badly Jack was looking. His face no longer had the faintest of pinks gracing it, his face more like that of a cadaver's. His breathing was shallow and his face looked pained, even in unconsciousness.

"Why did you leave him alone? Why are you here now?" Pitch asked, wanting to ask what Jack never could before.

"Much energy is needed to revive someone from the dead, to pull him away from what Destiny has chosen for him." Kiran wiped at Jack's face, seeing blood stains at the corner of the frost spirits eyes. "He's ill, a human illness having taken root."

"He isn't human any-more..." Pitch muttered. "Or perhaps-"

A sound came from the outside of the room. Kiran stepped away from Jack.

"I will watch over him from above. Please tell him that I regret my inability to be with him. All I can do now is wait for the energy to communicate with him to return to me." Pitch would have struck the moon man if he had truly thought that it would help, but he remembered that this man, this orphaned creature, was young compared to him - orphaned by Pitch himself! - and only had so much power of belief at his disposal.

"I will, Kiran."

The moonbeam mist disappeared and Pitch hissed as light came in from the hallway, the Guardians standing in the doorway.

He lunged at Jack's frail form and let the shadows engulf them, not able to stop their teleportation as the last Pooka grabbed at his coat.

* * *

Jack opened his eyes, surprised that he was outside and in the snow. Hadn't he been with his family before?

He saw a Night Mare standing in front of him, her stance protective, like his mother's when a wolf had gotten onto their land. She had her teeth bared, looking menacing. As he pushed himself up, Jack could see Pitch swinging his scythe at one of the Guardians... Bunny. The Workshop was a faint beam of light in the distance.

"What's going on?" he whispered to the Wind, listening to her soft echoes of how Bunny had found him in the cave and had assumed the worst. This is what her brother, the Southern Wind, had said; the Wind also began relaying information of her own, of how the Guardians were trying to take care of him, but they kept saying that Pitch was the one that hurt him, the reason he vomited blood and was in such pain.

The Night Mare protested him moving up to kneel in the snow, but Jack knew he had stop the fight going on in front of him, only yards away.

"Pitch!" His call made him cough, blood escaping his lips and decorating the corners of his lips. The Bogeyman turned around and Bunnymund saw his chance, jumped on the shadow man and tackling him to the ground.

"Stay away from us, from Jack!" A boomerang was raised high and the Wind blew with all her might, sending it out of Bunnymund's grasp. Pitch pushed the Pooka away and chuckled darkly.

"I have no quarrel with you this time, rabbit. I'm only here for Jack," Pitch explained. He began to walk towards Jack, who smiled up at him and reached out pale arms to his lover.

"Pitch..."

"It's all right, Jack." Pitch knelt, his legs becoming cold from the snow and frost, and embraced Jack tightly.

"Niry-A-Na-"

Pitch hushed him, combing his fingers through the other's white, silky hair. "We'll find out what this is all about... The Man in the Moon came to see you."

Jack shivered in his grasp.

"What did he say?"

"He is sorry for not coming to see you. It took too much energy to bring you back to life and he was left without means of communication." Pitch felt Jack curl closer against him. "Now all he can do is wait to grow stronger, and to talk to you."

Jack felt heat in his throat, sadness in this throat. "He didn't want to leave me alone?"

"No, Jack," Pitch whispered. "He didn't."

Pitch paid no mind to Jack's gasp, thinking that it was his sobbing at the discovery that his Creator, his _father_,

did love him. The soft crunching of footsteps on the snow behind him were ignored by Pitch.

It was only when Jack used his remaining strength to turn them around and when he heard his Night Mare scream in rage and fear and despair, did Pitch realise that Bunnymund had gotten up and was coming over slowly, an old blade in his paw. Jack had noticed and had taken the blade himself, the metal buried to its hilt. Pitch looked up at Bunnymund, whose green eyes were filled with horror - a feeling that Pitch felt that he deserved, but not at this cost - but were soon filled with rage.

"You throw your lot with him, Jack?"

Jack, resting his head on Pitch's shoulder, nodded weakly. Blood escaped his mouth and his breathing was raspy. "Yes, Bunny... I lo-"

Silence filled the air, the Wind as silent as her master.

"Jack?" Pitch whispered softly, inquiring. He raised Jack's face to his.

Blue eyes gazed at nothing.

The Bogeyman raised his fingers, lowering Jack's eyelids. He laid Jack in the snow and raised himself to look at Bunnymund.

"Did he really deserve this, rabbit?" The Pooka growled at him. Tears were at the corners of the Pooka's eyes.

"You didn't deserve him."

"I don't. Neither do you." Whether he meant the Pooka himself or the Guardians as a whole, Pitch couldn't answer that to himself. He felt rage and terror and spite and his soul was burning.

He was all alone again.

As Pitch let the shadows grow around him, claws appearing where there had only been fingers before, fangs where teeth had always resided, Bunnymund readied his knives again.

In the distance, behind an evergreen tree, Niry-A-Na stood smiling.

"Looks like I have more work to do," he chuckled. He looked up at the moon. "This is what happens when you interfere, Kirana."

The moonbeams that made their way to Earth for the rest of that night did their work mournfully, regretting their kindred spirit's death.

* * *

Devany: Hi, guys. I just wanted to thank those who are reading the series "Lark and Nightingale" and I would just like to ask for reviews. I really would appreciate any feedback and criticism (positive and negative). It would really help me grow as a writer and it could help with the 7th part of the series onward.

Thank you again!


End file.
